by C L Cruz
He nods and excuses himself, and I cross the room to greet Losev Turgenev, an oil baron who finally transferred his accounts to Hartigan and Kline after years of pursuit. Before I reach him, though, another hand reaches out to snag me.
I turn and find myself eye-to-eye with Maximilian Hawthorne.
“Twice in one night,” he says, swirling his wine in its glass before taking a sip.
“Lucky me,” I mutter, glancing over to see Turgenev signaling for his jacket.
“I saw you disappear with that curvy beauty you sniped from me at the auction. I thought you’d be out with her.”
The attendant approaches with my glass and I take it gratefully, and then select an Arturo Fuente cigar to go with it. Max pulls out his own butane lighter and holds it up for me as I light it.
“So,” he says, “what happened with her?”
Ignoring him, I puff on the cigar, letting it and the port and the atmosphere relax me.
Max doesn’t let it go, though. “Keeping her in your back pocket, are you?”
“I was just doing a favor for a co-worker,” I say.
“A ten-thousand-dollar favor?” Max puffs on his own cigar and smiles ruefully. “We both know that no Oakwood Boy does anything for free.”
“I didn’t know that girls like her were your type, anyway.”
Max narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “I didn’t either until I saw her. I’m beginning to think I wouldn’t mind a little something to hold onto.” He rests his cigar stub on a tray and finishes his wine, then pats me on the shoulder. “Let me know how it is, will you?”
“Not on your life.”
He laughs as he turns away and the attendant brings him his jacket. “See you later, old sport.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me to think about what exactly Nina offers that I can hold onto. I remember Ross in the elevator—tits and ass, he said. He wasn’t wrong. I sit in a high-back leather chair and spend about an hour smoking my cigar and fielding greetings from other men as they come and go from the lounge, declining offers to join poker games. I’m a shit player as it is, and with my lack of focus right now, I would probably go bankrupt.
When the cigar has burned out and I’ve finished my second glass of port, I call my driver and head home to my apartment in the Grove. I fall into bed after a cold shower, and I fall asleep imagining what it would be like to have Nina and her warm, curvy body pressed up against mine.
Chapter Six
Nina
I flip through the stack of paperwork on my desk and look at the clock at the bottom of my computer screen. It’s only eleven o’clock and I’ve been distracted all morning. In the cubicles around me, everyone is silent, typing away at their keyboards. I can hear the tinny sound of music from someone’s earphones, but not much else. Every time the elevator doors open, I watch the hall, waiting, hoping that it’s Tobias, that he’s figured out where I work and is coming to cash in on his date.
But it never is, and my heart falls a little with each ding of the elevator.
I’ve just resolved to try to stay focused until lunch when my cell phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello?” I say quietly.
“This is the receptionist at Oakwood City High School calling for Ms. Nina Rodriguez.”
“This is she,” I answer.
“I’m calling because your sister, Valentina, is in the nurse’s office with a headache. She—”
I’m already standing up, sliding my purse over my shoulder. “I’ll be right there.”
“But—”
“Ten minutes,” I say, disconnecting the call.
When she didn’t come to the date auction last night, I called her, ready to read her the riot act, but instead of being out at a party or on a date like I’d expected, she’d been in bed.
“I just feel so tired,” she’d said, punctuating it with a yawn.
“Oh,” I’d said, trying to quell the rise of panic. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Get some rest.”
But now a headache. Then it will be a bloody nose, a loss of appetite, a stroke. And if she’s relapsed, then it will be chemo and antibiotics and blood transfusions and years back and forth from the hospital.
I knock on my supervisor’s door. Kathy looks up, eyebrows raised.
“I have to go,” I tell her. “My sister is sick.”
Her initial look of displeasure is replaced by sympathy. Everyone knows about Valentina because of my aunt’s charity work. “Of course, no problem. We’ll get someone to cover your quota for the day.”
“Thanks.”
“Keep us updated.”
“I will,” I promise, already turning for the elevators.
I ride the elevator down to the garage level and slide into the driver’s seat of my ancient Honda Civic. It belonged to my mom before me, and even though it’s old and rusty, it’s always been trustworthy. But when I turn the key in the ignition, it gives a small sputter and then dies. I turn it again.
Click, click, click.
It doesn’t start.
I try again and again before giving up, resting my forehead on the steering wheel and squeezing my eyes to try to keep back the tears and the horrible thoughts from entering my head. It doesn’t work. The floodgates open.
If I’d gone to college, I wouldn’t be in this job, making a pittance, driving a shit-mobile. I’d have a good job, a nice car, maybe some extra spending money. But how could I go to college when I sat with my mom every afternoon and heard her on the phone with the health insurance companies? When I saw her try to balance her checkbook only to end up in tears? When we had to live off of food stamps and ramen noodles? There was no extra money to send me to college, not when Valentina’s health was on the line. So instead, I got a job, and my check went straight to my mother to help pay the bills. While it wasn’t much, it got us back on our feet.
Now, I’m supposed to be saving up to move out, but it’s like every time I get a little something, life steals it away. I’m going to have to pay to fix the car. And God forbid, what if Valentina has relapsed? I can’t even think about it.
There’s a tap on my window and I swipe at my face before looking over and into a pair of serious dark eyes.
Holy shit.
Tobias signals for me to roll down my window. Since it’s an old hand crank, I can, even though I look ridiculous doing it.
He waits until it’s all the way down and then leans over. “Nina? What’s wrong?”
I sniff, knowing my face is blotchy and red, but whatever. He’s already had to rip a dress off of me during a panic attack so what’s another mental breakdown? Just add it to the list. “My car won’t start.”
“Where are you going?”
“My sister is sick at school,” I say. “I’m afraid she…she might have…”
Realization dawns on his face and he takes a step back. “Come on. I’ll take you.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m sure you have a lot to do.” He looks amazing in a blue, three-piece suit that probably costs as much as my mom’s mortgage payment if not more. “More important things than this if you’re dressed like that.”
His eyes narrow and he pulls out his phone, punching in a number and putting it to his ear. “Ross?” he says into it, and I recognize the name of his assistant. “Cancel my day.” He’s quiet as Ross says something. “All of them.”
Then, he calls another number. “Chuck, we need the car.”
That done, he opens my car door and holds a hand out to me. “Come on.”
“I can’t ask you to do this,” I say, taking his hand and standing.
“You didn’t.” He shuts my car door, and even though he releases my hand, he doesn’t step back to give me room. We’re so close that my breasts brush his chest, making my nipples tingle.
“This isn’t part of our…deal,” I whisper.
His smile sends a shiver straight to my lady parts. “I’ll just add it to your tab.”
I don’t ask how he’s going to exact his payment because I think I know the answer, and I’m not at all opposed to his methods.
A blacked-out Town Car pulls around and stops in front of my car. An older gentleman in a black suit gets out and opens the back door.
“After you,” Tobias says, pushing me forward with a hand at the small of my back.
I get in and scoot over, making room as Tobias talks briefly with the driver and then joins me. His presence seems to take up all the space in the car, but it doesn’t feel suffocating. It feels comforting. Like if I were to just sit back, he would take control and fix everything.
I’ve never had that before. I’ve always been the fixer.
The car pulls out onto the street and Tobias looks over at me. “How long has your sister been in remission?”
“Ten years,” I say with a shake of my head. “But it’s like walking around with a ticking bomb strapped to my chest. Every doctor’s appointment, every middle-of-the-night call. That could be it. We could be right back where we were ten years ago.”
He nods. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine.”
“You have a sister, right?”
He nods again. “Josephine. A pain in the ass but I can’t imagine life without her.”
“That about sums it up.” No matter how much I wonder how different my life could have been, I have to remember the possible consequence for normalcy would be a life without my little sister.
When we pull up in front of the high school, I open the door without waiting for Tobias or the driver.
“Thank you so much,” I say as I climb out.
But Tobias is getting out, too. “I’ll come with you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know,” he interrupts me. “When will you learn that I do what I want, not what I’m told?”
I pause to shoot him a grateful smile. “I’ll be back then.”
Inside, the nurse ushers me into her office, where Val is lying on a couch, a cloth over her eyes, the lights off. “I think it’s just a migraine,” the nurse is saying, “but with her history…”
“I know,” I say. “Thank you for calling.”
She turns and goes back out into the hall, leaving me with Val. It’s scary to see my sister like this, after being healthy and robust for so long.
Patting her arm, I say, “Val?”
She pulls the cloth from her eyes and looks at me. “Thank God.”
“Is it that bad?”
She swings her legs around and sits. “This place is. I’m so ready to be done with it.”
My brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”
She tosses the wet cloth to the side. “Sam is hooking up with Brooks now and I just can’t stand it. I can’t be here a second longer.”
“Wait, wait, what? I thought you were sick.”
She stands. “I am. Sick of this place.”
“So, this is about your ex-boyfriend? This isn’t about…you’re not…”
Scoffing, she picks up her backpack. “You’re just like Mom and Camila. Why is it always about the leukemia with you?”
I drop my eyes, staring at the floor, not sure if I want to cry or beat the shit out of her. It’s always about the leukemia because it’s always been about the leukemia. About her, her health, her disease, her well-being.
“Who are you?” I hear Val ask.
I look up and see Tobias leaning against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets, watching the whole embarrassing scene.
Standing, I bite out, “I told you we’d be right there.”
He isn’t cowed by my outburst. Instead, his eyes rake over me and land on my sister. “You should get back to class,” he says coolly.
She smirks. “I’m going home.”
“You’re not.” He takes a step inside the office. I wonder how he got past the receptionist, but then he smiles at my sister and I think I know how. “You’re going to go back to class, you’re going to deal with Sam or Brooks or whoever like the adult that you almost are. And I’m going to take your sister out on the best date of her life.”
Val’s smirk fades as she glances between us. “Who even are you?”
He sticks a hand out to her. “Tobias Kline.”
She takes it, still looking kind of awestruck. “Tobias Kline?”
“Your sister’s date.”
Realization dawns on her face and she turns to me. “He bid on you at the date auction?” she hisses like he isn’t standing right there. “Nina! You didn’t tell me.”
I shrug. “You didn’t bother to show up.”
Tobias steps to the side and Val leaves the nurse’s office looking sufficiently chastised. After chatting with the nurse and the receptionist, Tobias and I walk out of the school together. My heart races but not in a bad way. The idea of Val handling her own shit and someone taking care of me for once?
It’s practically unheard of.
And really damn exciting.
Chapter Seven
Tobias
I don’t try to hide my stare as we walk to the car, which is still idling in front of the school.
“What?” Nina asks, smiling shyly at me and glancing away.
“Let me treat you,” I say. I have the feeling she doesn’t get that very often. She takes care of everyone else, and that makes me want to take care of her even more. “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere?” she asks, and I can already tell she has something in mind.
Chuck opens the door and we slide into the backseat of the car. This time, now that I know her sister’s fine and she doesn’t have anything to worry about, I scoot in right beside her, our legs touching.
“What about work?” she asks.
“I think your boss will give you the rest of the day off.”
“How very irresponsible of him,” she says playfully.
Taking her hand in mine, I lace our fingers together. “The two of us deserve to be a little irresponsible.”
Chuck gets in and shuts his door, and then catches my eye in the mirror. “Where to?”
I look at her. “Where to?”
She looks up from where she’d been studying our hands. “I’ve never been to the Oakwood Club. Are they open for lunch?”
Interesting choice. I can’t help but wonder if she wants to go there to eat lunch, or because she wants to be my lunch. While it’s not necessarily talked about openly, it’s no secret what goes on in the lower levels, and perhaps my own proclivities have gotten out. As I suspected when I first saw her, there’s definitely more to my Nina than meets the eye. The thought of her bound and at my mercy makes my dick strain against my pants.
“Yes,” I say. “They’re open.”
I give Chuck the directions and with a nod, he pulls out onto the main road and heads for the club.
The OC has a restaurant on one of the upper floors, its decor strikingly similar to the lounge—dark and smoky, with tables set apart enough to give the diners privacy as they discuss business or…other opportunities. The only difference are the floor-to-ceiling windows that take up two of the walls, providing a stunning view of Oakwood City.
That’s the first thing Nina sees when we walk in. She gasps in appreciation.
“You should see it at sunset,” I say, wishing I could watch her face light up at the sight of the sun setting over my city—our city.
“You’ll just have to bring me back for dinner sometime,” she says.
I grin at her as we follow the hostess to a table by the window. She sits caddy-corner from me and studies the menu. After a few seconds, she looks up at me, eyes wide.
“Order whatever you want,” I tell her.
She bites one corner of her lip, and then says, “Will you order for me?”
I practically growl with pleasure at her handing me the reins, giving me permission to care for her and give her the experience she deserves. Her innocence and willingness are enough to make me want to tie her up with the flimsy scar
f she’s wearing and worship her body.
After sharing the truffle risotto appetizer and eating a delicious lunch of pan seared salmon over spinach, I order a bottle of Prosecco and relax into my chair. We’ve talked about her sister and what she sees as missed opportunities. We’ve talked about my adventures in baby-sitting my own little sister and how that shaped my life’s priorities.
Now it’s time to venture into other territory.
“So, why did you want to come here?” I ask her.
She looks out the window before answering. “It’s just such a staple in this city and I’ve never had the opportunity.” The blush creeping up her neck toward her cheeks gives her away, though.
“You’ve never dated an Oakwood Boy?” I ask.
Cutting her eyes at me, she says, “Do I look like I’ve dated an Oakwood Boy?”
I know what she means—she doesn’t fit the mold of the perfect, golden-haired, stick-thin, trust-fund baby. So, I take my time sizing her up, not bothering to hide my appreciative moan. “You look like I’m just lucky I got to you first.”
She leans forward, her arms pressing her breasts together as they rise up over the neckline of her blouse. “And what are you going to do with me now that you have me?”
I tilt my head toward hers, bending so my mouth is close to her ear. “I’m going to make you mine.”
Chapter Eight
Nina
Feeling like I’m about to get in way over my head, I take a long drink of the bubbling wine, working up the nerve to ask what I really want to know. “Is it true what they say about the lower levels here?”
“What do they say?” he asks, a coy smirk on his lips. He just wants to hear me say it.
My cheeks burn as I answer. “That it’s, you know, for swingers and voyeurs and, you know, group…”
“Orgies?”
I don’t answer him. Instead, I tip my head back and empty my drink.
He takes it from me and refills my glass from the bottle on the table.
“I might need something stronger,” I admit.
“You can’t be drunk if I take you downstairs.” His voice is deep and rough.
